


Midwinter Wishes Come True

by devilinthedetails



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Childhood, Family, Gen, Gifts, Love, Midwinter, Wishes, Wishing on a star, wishes coming true
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 05:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13116660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilinthedetails/pseuds/devilinthedetails
Summary: Sometimes Midwinter wishes do come true in the Conte family.





	Midwinter Wishes Come True

Midwinter Wishes Come True

It was the longest night of the year, and Jon was arranging presents for his children under the evergreen tree shining with baubles and bows in the parlor of the royal quarters. Tonight’s party hadn’t concluded until the first bell of the morning, so it was obscenely late when Thayet and Jon started wrapping Midwinter gifts for their children. 

Since Jon’s fingers were clumsy compared to Thayet’s deft ones when it came to tying ribbons about boxes, she had dumped a pile of presents in his arm and ordered him to arrange the gifts she wrapped under the tree instead of mangling any more bows. Jon was rather relieved to be spared wrapping duty even if it meant being bossed by his wife. What made him frown was a fidgeting sound behind the sofa opposite the tree. 

Wondering if a rat had made its home in the parlor, where they truly had to stop eating Midwinter cakes and other crumbly desserts, Jon bent to look under the couch and found himself staring into eyes as blue as his own. He had only passed those blue eyes onto his two oldest children, and the shape—the same as Thayet’s—of the wide eyes gazing back at him meant the mistreat was Roald, since Kally’s eyes were the shame shape as Jon’s. 

“Come out from behind there, Roald,” Jon commanded, sitting on the sofa as he debated inwardly whether he should be pleased not to have a rat infestation or vexed that he had a son sneaking out of bed to spy at him at cursedly early hours of the morning. 

Jon expected to hear scooting sounds as his mostly compliant child crawled out from behind the couch, but the only noise in the room remained the cheery cackling of the flaming logs in the fireplace. Clearly Roald was torn between his instinct to hide from trouble and his urge to obey his father. To make it obvious that he wanted Roald to do the latter immediately, Jon added crisply, “I meant now, not some time next month.” 

Since a definite timeframe on his obedience had been established, Roald scrambled out from behind the sofa. Standing before Jon, he shuffled his feet and glanced at his father from beneath lowered lashes, plainly anticipating a reprimand. 

Sighing because he didn’t want to be the ogre who scolded his son on Midwinter, Jon asked as he picked up his oldest child and perched him on his knee, “Have you been up all night, son?” 

“No, Papa.” Roald shook his head earnestly. “I just heard you and Mama come in, and I wanted to see—“ 

Roald trailed off but Jon, able to surmise where his son’s six-year-old logic led, finished, “You wanted to see what you had gotten for Midwinter, didn’t you?” 

“A little bit, Papa.” Roald ducked his head, and Jon thought his son must have wished to find out his future presents more than little bit if it had driven him out of bed before sunrise. Not that Jon could fault him for that. To a six-year-old, waiting hours to learn the answer to a mystery as important as what was under the Midwinter tree could stretch into eternity. “Now I know what I’m getting.” 

“Do you?” Jon arched an eyebrow since he was confident that Roald had no magical vision to see through boxes. 

“Coal.” Roald bit a trembling lip. “That’s what bad children get, and I was bad to sneak out of bed—“ 

“You aren’t bad,” interrupted Jon sternly, because Roald had a tendency to be too hard on himself when he misbehaved. In Roald’s mind, he was either good or bad, right or wrong, fair or unfair, and one lapse sent him to the wrong side of those divides. “None of my children are bad. Stubborn, sneaky, and too smart for their own good, maybe, but not bad.” 

He must have spoken too sharply because something in his words or his tone made his six-year-old flinch. Stroking Roald’s shaking back in reassurance, Jon took care to soften his voice as he continued, “It was naughty of you to sneak out of bed to spy, but it’s Midwinter, and I can forgive you for that. I’m certainly not going to give you coal for that.” 

The stiffness in Roald’s back relaxed as Jon kept rubbing calming circles into his small son’s back. Soothing Roald, Jon thought that only a man with a heart of stone (which Jon didn’t possess despite conservative rumormongering on the contrary) would give his child coal on Midwinter. That would be as cruel as slapping a child in the face when he asked for a hug. 

“I love you, Papa, and I’m sorry I was naughty.” Roald leaned his presumably sleepy head against Jon’s chest in what might have been a sign that it was too heavy for him to hold up this late. 

“I love you too, son.” Jon swept a lock of sleep-tossed hair away from Roald’s forehead to brush his lips across it in a kiss. “And I already said you were forgiven.” 

He was about to send his child back to bed when Roald spoke in an almost whisper. “Is Kally getting a pony, Papa? That’s what I wanted to see but couldn’t.” 

A pony was Kally’s most desperate desire this year, so Jon figured that it was no shock that Roald was worried about whether his little sister’s Midwinter wish came true. 

“You wouldn’t have seen a pony under the tree.” Jon swallowed a chuckle, not wanting serious Roald to believe he was being mocked. “A pony wouldn’t fit under the tree. If we were giving Kally a pony, we’d keep the pony in the stables.” 

“I know that, Papa.” Roald shot Jon an indignant glance that suggested he didn’t appreciate being addressed as if he were born yesterday. Roald was sensitive to any aspersions against his maturity. “I thought I might see a saddle if she were getting a pony. That’s why I snuck out of bed to check.” 

“If we got her a pony but kept the saddle under the tree, that would ruin the surprise.” Jon tapped his son’s nose. “Midwinter gifts for children are no fun if they aren’t a surprise.” 

“Is Kally getting a pony as a surprise?” Roald could be very persistent—like a dog gnawing on a bone—when he was curious. “I wished on a star that she would get one, but I know wishes on stars don’t always come true.” 

Not wanting his son to grow up too fast and stop believing in the power of wishing on stars, Jon, squeezing Roald’s shoulder, murmured, “The ones we make for those we love—family and friends—always do, especially if we make them at Midwinter, Roald.” 

As he considered this, Roald cocked his head. Then, focusing on what seemed to matter most to him in this moment, he pressed, “Does that mean Kally is getting a pony?” 

Defeated by his child’s single-minded devotion to variants of one question, Jon ruffled Roald’s hair as he answered, “Yes, but you’re under strict orders to keep that secret from Kally. I don’t want you spoiling her surprise.” 

“I won’t, Papa.” Roald, for once not somber, was smiling. “Kally will be so happy she’ll jump high enough to put a hole in the stable roof.” 

“Now you’re just dreaming.” Jon laughed at Roald’s description of Kally’s glee when she received her longed for pony. Setting his son on the floor and nudging him toward his bedchamber, Jon commanded dryly, “Finish these dreams in your bed where they and you belong, Roald.” 

The next morning when they took Kally out to the stables after breakfast to introduce her to her new pony, Jon thought that Roald might not have been exaggerating too much as he watched his daughter leap several feet in the air, squealing in delight. 

“I love her already.” Kally hugged her pony. Then, apparently recalling that she had yet to thank her parents, went on in a stream of joy, “I love you, too, Mama and Papa. Thank you for the pony. I’ll take good care of her.” 

“Yes, you will,” agreed Thayet firmly. “You will brush her and feed her because we take care of the creatures we love.” 

“I will, Mama. Promise.” Kally’s eyes burned with honesty and excitement, and Jon hoped that he would remember her happiness and innocence in this moment as long as he lived. “I’ll be the best person at taking care of a pony ever, you’ll see.”


End file.
